The Street - Poem by John Molloy
The streets aren't narrow
for the Mall's so long
the scope's too wide for Granny.
Molly's dead and the fish are frozen,
idolized in bronze a mile away.
Financial appeal did fill thy breasts.
'3 for 50,5 for a pound,
the freshest fruit gather 'round.
Mushrooms on special, peppers too;
Here ya' are Mam - a pound to you.
come over here love, don't be shy,
ya' can have a feel but, not a try.'
Henry's end of Hector's street's
awash with faces new
serve by the carriage loyal.
Roache's echoing cries amix
the crowd to baffle still.
Each the peddlers' ware to lift.
'A pound a bunch the fresh carnations
for loved ones, birthdays, celebrations;
And roses too I have today
With ribbons ready - on display
but, daffodils prefer ya' might,
the good 'aul favourite - Ma's delight.'
Caple street - the tailors' pride
was sown with oh few seeds,
now banks do leap the frog.
And Mary street - the dealers choice,
trap and thurafare
sees change too great - expensive.
'4 for 50 the chocolate pies, the Mars bars 3,
a pounds worth of Kitkats - get one free.
Bags of sweets togather or lose,
Cans of Pepsi or orange juice.
Quickly now, I can't delay
the poxy sergeant's on his way.'
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